


Scream

by wingedcatninja



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2020 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Character, Bondage, F/M, Femdom, Hands Only, No toys, Rope Bondage, Sub Dean, Sub!Dean, Submissive Dean Winchester, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2020, Tumblr Challenge, ball slapping, breath play, handjob, lots of emotions though, no coitus in this fic, pain and pleasure, tied to bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedcatninja/pseuds/wingedcatninja
Summary: To a lot of people - to most people - it might seem like a strange way to show affection. For Dean and you, there’s no better way.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Kat Dubh (OC), Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612531
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo 2020





	Scream

**Author's Note:**

> For SPN Kink Bingo 2020. Also for @deanwanddamons 500 follower challenge on Tumblr where my prompt was ‘I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name’. Heed the warnings. I apologize for nothing.

Kat sighed deeply, the water from the shower soaking her exhausted body. The hunt had gone sideways almost immediately when the “ghost” turned out to be an Acheri working its way through the children in town. By the time they had figured out how to kill it, five more children were dead. Dean took each death personally, beating himself up for not being able to save them. 

Turning the water off, she stepped out and grabbed the plush white towel. Dean had stopped her when she was getting out of the car in the garage, pleading silently, and she could never turn him down when he so clearly needed her. To be fair, she needed it just as much as he did.

She wrapped the towel around herself and padded barefoot through the Bunker’s hallways. Sam had only stayed long enough to drop his bag in his room before he took off in the truck he kept in the garage for himself. She had no idea where he went, nor did she really care all that much. Sam could take care of himself and would call them if he needed anything. He was also not her responsibility. Not like Dean was.

When she finally got back to the room, Dean was naked on the bed, the ropes already attached to the frame and waiting for her to tie his wrists and ankles. 

His eyes found her immediately when he heard the door. His solid frame seemed to take up most of the bed where he lay with one hand tucked under his head, the other slowly stroking his hard cock. The soft yellow light from the bedside lamps perfectly lit every line of his body, and the color made his freckles almost invisible.

Dropping the towel over the back of the chair, she moved naked across the room, Dean’s eyes following her. He let out a soft sound of disappointment when she pulled on an old t-shirt, soft from wear, and a pair of briefs. 

“Don’t start, Dean,” she said, walking over and picking up the end of the nearest rope.

Whatever he had been about to say in response turned into a breathy moan of pleasure when he felt the soft cotton rope wound snugly around his ankle. Glancing up at him, she saw his fingers give his cock a firm squeeze. It made her smile, despite the exhaustion.

She went around to each corner, tying him securely to the bed. With her experience in bondage, even Dean Winchester had trouble slipping the ropes once she had him restrained. From his reactions, he seemed to enjoy that.

Once he was tied up, she stepped back to admire the view. The muscles in his arms and legs were tense, testing the ropes, and the soft light caused intriguing shadows to play over his body. She waited, watching him while he tugged on the ropes. Not exactly struggling, not really, but still trying his best to get loose. She admired his economy of movement.

When he finally relaxed, his eyes sought her out, waiting. The light was too low to make out the green of his eyes; they looked almost black from that angle. Keeping her eyes on his, she climbed onto the bed, making herself comfortable in the ample space between his spread legs. Her hands slid along his thighs, fingers massaging the firm muscles, while she took a breath.

It was a fine line she had to walk this time. Dean wanted to be punished, but for things that were not his fault; things that were, in fact, out of his control. Somehow, she had to get him to realize that and release the guilt - at least some of it - without making things worse. 

She dragged her nails over the skin of his inner thighs. His eyes were riveted on her, a look of anticipation on his face. When she increased the pressure and raked her nails over his thighs, his only reaction was to bite down on his bottom lip. 

Sitting up, she moved to his torso, leaving four almost parallel lines on either side, from his hips to his nipples. He sucked in a breath and fidgeted beneath her. Their eyes still locked together, she watched him while she dragged her nails up and down his chest and abdomen. Bright red welts covered his skin before she stopped. 

Dean was breathing hard, his body tense. When she leaned in again, he flinched almost imperceptibly in anticipation of more of the same. Instead, she slid her palms along the scratched skin in a soothing caress until her hands rested just below his nipples. She flicked her thumbs over the pert little nubs, drawing a soft gasp from Dean’s lips. Taking both of his nipples between thumb and index finger, she rolled them gently, then flicked them with a fingertip. 

Short gasps of pleasure fell from those plump lips of his, his eyes half-closed, hips rolling, searching for friction. She kept it up until he was a panting mess beneath her. Then the gentle tweaks became hard pinches, her fingers gripping his nipples firmly and twisting them until his body was trying to curl in on itself. She kept it up until a soft whimper escaped him. 

Letting go, she soothed the abused flesh with gentle caresses. Her fingers massaged his tense muscles, coaxing his body to relax. Moving from his chest to his arms, she was almost lying on top of him while her fingers expertly kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and arms. She felt him roll his hips, pressing his erection against her body. Knowing she was the one causing his reactions made the familiar warmth of satisfaction spread throughout her body. She almost wished she could feel the same.

When her lips pressed against his, his eyes closed and he responded eagerly. She felt his tongue lick her lips, begging for entrance, but instead of letting him in, she moved away. He chased after her until the restraints forced him to let his head fall back against the pillow. 

When their eyes met again, she could see the guilt there. Obscured now by lust, but still undeniably there. Straightening, she propped herself on one hand, bringing the other up to cradle his face. The slight stubble felt rough against her palm and contrasted deliciously with the softness of the skin across his cheekbone. She swiped her thumb over his lips, then, still keeping her eyes on his, she drew back slightly. 

The sound of her hand connecting with his face was loud in the mostly silent room. Dean’s head whipped to the side from the force of the slap, his eyes clenching shut tightly. She waited until he turned back, his eyes finding hers once more. Cocking her head, she studied those eyes, dark now with emotions.

As if the slap had unleashed it, the guilt was there, like storm clouds darkening the sky. She had to fight back her own emotions to be able to go on. Partly to hide it from her sight, she drew back her hand and struck his other cheek. The sound of her hand connecting with his face again was loud enough that it covered her soft noise of distress. By the time he was once again looking into her eyes, she had regained her composure.

However, the guilt in his eyes seemed to only be more prevalent. Her fingers tangled in his short hair, fist closing on a handful and tugging, hard, pulling his head to the side and exposing his throat. Bending down, her blunt teeth closed on his flesh, biting down until a groan punched from Dean’s chest to fall from his lips. Switching her grip on his hair, she tugged again, this time pulling his head back until his shoulders almost arched off the bed. 

She dragged a single nail from the tip of his chin to the hollow of his throat. She briefly wished she had her silver blade, but it was safely tucked away in her boot over by the door. 

Without really noticing, she had moved up his body until she was straddling his hips, his hard cock trapped between them. She only realized when she gave his hair another tug and felt him twitch between her legs. Frozen in place, she focused on her breathing. There were too many emotions. She needed a moment to process. Never in her life had she wished so hard that she could be other than what she was. 

Pushing her own confusing feelings aside, she moved up a little more. Just enough that his cock was no longer trapped against her core. She put her hand against Dean’s throat, thumb and fingers tight just below his jaw. Releasing her grip on his hair, she pressed her hand against him, cutting off his air. His eyes flicked to hers, a look of unwavering trust meeting her. She held her hand there until she felt his body twitch beneath her. 

When she released him, he gasped in a deep rasping breath, his body relaxing once more. She gave him three breaths before her hand was back on his throat, squeezing, denying him the very breath of life. She searched his eyes, seeing the guilt still there, but receding, lurking in the background behind everything else.

Letting go again, she let him draw in a single breath before pressing her lips to his. When she pulled away, he chased after her again, his eyes closed. She waited until he was looking up at her once more before moving; scooting down until she was once again kneeling between his legs. 

The welts her nails had left were rough against her palms when she caressed his skin, moving her hands in random patterns over his lower abdomen and hips while she slowly approached her target. Dean never took his eyes off her. When she finally brushed his length with her fingers, he bit down on his bottom lip again. His eyes followed her every move, anticipation and desire clouding all other emotions. 

Her fingers traced his length, from tip to base, with a feather-light touch. It was enough to make him twitch with interest. Her touch was only a tease though, her fingers continuing down to wrap around his balls. She took her time there, pulling them away from his body until his hips raised from the bed to alleviate the pressure. Holding them in place with one hand, she used the other to scratch a single fingernail over the taut skin until his breaths became groans. 

She tapped her fingers against them. They were gentle taps, but still enough to draw sharp hisses from him, his body twitching with each tap. When her eyes sought his again, her nails idly scratching against his skin, she could no longer make out any of the guilt in his eyes. She had no doubt it was still there, in his mind, but at least for the moment it was obscured by the pleasure and pain she was giving him.

Keeping her grip on his balls, she wrapped her other hand around his shaft, enjoying the feeling of the velvety skin. Dean exhaled sharply at the feeling, his hips rolling into her touch. With one hand squeezing and tugging at his balls, and the other stroking his shaft, Dean was quickly reduced to a panting writhing mess.

His arms and legs tense against the ropes, he let his head fall back, eyes closed, lips parted on short gasps of pleasure. She loved seeing him like this; abandoned to the pleasure, and at the same time struggling not to let it take him over. There were rules, and he was determined not to break them.

She knew what he needed, and she gave it to him. Never stopping what her hands were doing, she told him what a good boy he was, how pretty he looked, and how happy he was making her. The words caused shivers to ripple through him, his cock twitching in her hand. 

She could have watched him like this for hours, but for the fatigue she could still feel in her bones. 

"Look at me, pretty boy." At the soft command from her, Dean raised his head again and his eyes found hers. To her relief, there was no sign of the guilt in his eyes. Hopefully, it would stay buried. At least for a while.

Easing the pressure on his balls slowly, she eventually moved both hands to work on his cock. Light touches pushed him slowly toward the edge, making him squirm and writhe in his bonds. She read him like an open book, knowing just when he was there, and then kept him there, on the edge of bliss, until he was a sobbing mess. 

Dean’s muscles strained against the ropes, his hips rolling instinctively, seeking both more and less. The stimulation was almost too much, but not enough all the same time. He needed to come, almost more than he needed air. 

When she finally let him tumble over the edge, he fell with her name on his lips. A shiver went up her spine at the sight of him, his entire body trembling with the force of his release. 

By the time he recovered, she had already untied the ropes, cleaned him up, and was sitting next to him, gently combing her fingers through his sweat-damp hair. His eyelids fluttered and he looked up at her. The feelings she read in his eyes at that moment almost overwhelmed her. 

Sliding down to lie beside him, she let him wrap her in his arms, taking comfort in his solid form pressed so close to her. She drifted off to the sound of his heart beating steadily under her ear.


End file.
